


Just Say It

by qaolu



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: And She is Genderfluid With a Lot of Feelings, Author Projects Headcanons Onto Favorite Character, Because Evan Buckley is Her Son, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Canon, Trans Evan "Buck" Buckley, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24226978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qaolu/pseuds/qaolu
Summary: Buck comes out, but not in the way they expect him to.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 137





	Just Say It

**Author's Note:**

> "I will take your side,  
> You make me feel like I've been waiting my whole life,  
> And I could die,  
> To find that simple kind of love you can't deny,  
> Just say it."  
> \- Say It, Just Say It by The Mowgli's
> 
> Everything about this is incredibly self-indulgent. Thank you.

"I need to come out and be honest with you all," Buck said, voice unsteady. His New York accent gets more pronounced when he tries to be serious, all Yankee and no control.

"We'll love you no matter what," Bobby reassures. The main 118 family were gathered around the dinner table, waiting for the big reveal Buck had been impatiently hinting at all evening. Clearly, it was important; Buck was visibly anxious. Eddie wondered what it was that got him all worked up, pacing the floors until the dishes met the sink to indicate the time for his announcement.

“Unless it’s about another lawsuit,” Chim comments, but Hen throws a napkin at him.

"You're fine," she smiles knowingly, eyes flashing towards Eddie, “Go on.”

Their squad is more accepting than most, a well rounded crew with people from different backgrounds and stories, plucked from varying walks of life to create a unified team.

Except nothing prepared them for the news they heard, because, well?

They honestly thought it was going to be about something else.

"I'm a transgender man," Buck blurts, nervously scanning the room, "Like, I was born a girl and obviously, I transitioned. I didn't think it was important to say until now."

Chim's mouth was hanging wide open.

"That's not where I thought this was going," he stares down Eddie, who's sitting in the corner chair unaware of the implications within that statement.

"What?" Buck’s eyebrows raised. It wasn’t the reaction he hoped for.

"Buckaroo, we love you and you're a handsome man to us," Hen got up to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Right, Eddie?"

 _Why the fuck is everyone looking at me_ , Eddie thought. The universe had a magnetic pull that was directing their gaze solely to the man, who was undoubtedly accepting under any circumstances. Buck was Buck, the enigmatic, lovable hotshot of the bunch. Nothing would change that unless he suddenly decided being a firefighter was a lost cause, to which they would assume he had amnesia and declare him in need of medical assistance.

"Right," Eddie cleared his throat, "Buck, we’re here for you. Thank you for telling us."

"Huh," Hen leaned forward, "Anything else, Diaz?"

Eddie felt hot, flushed. Even Buck was fixated on his untimely fidgeting session, suddenly too red in the cheeks and warm under the collar. The uniform had never felt so sweaty, a sticky mess of fabric bogged down by the balmy weather.

"I can't think of anything else."

"You're totally okay with it?" Buck drifted over to him, drawn to the flow of conversation that had narrowed down Eddie as the sole target, "That means a lot, man."

Chim groaned. Hen sighed. Bobby prayed, for a moment, that the idiots would realize.

"I swear to fucking god," Hen rubbed her temples.

"Next time, maybe,” Chim dismissed.

Buck and Eddie had no idea what they were insinuating. Bobby had found company in the tablecloth, taking it away from its earthly bondage to the surface. He took a vow of silence.

Eddie smiled sympathetically, watching the color flood Buck's cheeks.

 _You'll always be my best friend_ , he thought. _Always_.

It was hours later, and Eddie was meditating with his third cup of coffee, watching the milk separate. The creamer was old. Buck was approaching him looking softer than ever, lifted from the weight of disclosure. In its simplicity, the firehouse had returned back to normal, but betraying him, Eddie's heart fluttered. Buck was practically floating across the building.

"Hey, you're really okay with everything? Not weirded out at all?" Buck sat down on the couch next to him, making room.

"Why wouldn’t I be?" Eddie shifted, adjusting his body to allow for the space, "Anyway you feel the most happy and comfortable is fine by me."

 _You'll always be my best friend_ , his chest tugged. The words tumbled out before they could be returned. Eddie kicked himself mentally and waited for the ridicule to end.

"That's cheesy," Buck teased, but he grinned nonetheless.

"I guess everyone else thought you were going to say something different," Eddie revisited the place from earlier, not sure how it was making him feel, "I don't know, like that you are...into guys or something."

Buck made a face.

"Well, duh," he remarked flatly, and coffee flew from Eddie's mouth right onto the table. _Not a good look, Diaz_. "What? Wait, did everyone not know? Do I have to tell my whole life story before people realize anything defining about me?"

"No," Eddie reaches for a napkin, "I guess it’s because you didn't announce it."

He gets a stare in response, empty and vacant. Eddie wishes an alien abduction would start to lift him out of this situation. Sirens, lights, the works.

"I literally don't know how any of you didn't know I was bisexual. I could wear a fucking shirt here that has the words right on it and everyone would just comment on my hair."

"You _did_ shave it," Eddie hummed, gazing over at the man whose head matched his own. They had done it together at Eddie’s house, with Christopher cheering them on in the bathroom. Both were donning the same, complementary style.

"I'm going to come in on a horse tomorrow," Buck declares, cracking his knuckles, "Ready or not, Los Angeles. Get ready for Evan Buckley and the bisexuals. Hit it, ladies! Then a choir of 911 operators headed by Maddie will do an elaborate dance routine."

"I literally hate you," Eddie rolls his eyes, lying, "Get out of here."

"That's transphobic and biphobic," Buck jabs him in the ribs, "I'm calling human resources. You’re going downtown. Athena!”

Eddie wonders if the relief he feels is just because of Buck being happy to share his identity, mutually proud of the progress he's made. His confidence is admirable. Eddie would kill for a small taste of it in his morning coffee to lead him to do amazing, death-defying stunts that wowed the masses. Instead, he ignores the sensation that wells up inside him and becomes a professional at shutting out unhelpful emotions. Unraveling them would mean admitting the truth.

"Do we have to tell Christopher?" Buck says to him a day later as he gazes at the handmade card that had come in the mail weeks prior. When Chris had gone away to camp (much to the worry of Evan) he penned his dad a goodbye letter, but accidentally forgot about Buck. To make up for it and after gentle ribbing from Eddie, a beautifully decorated glitter bomb arrived for Buck in the mail soon after. The mailman could've walked the runway with the multicolored glue and sticker trail the gift left behind.

Needless to say, it was Buck's favorite thing in the entire world.

"About what?" Eddie asks, then remembers. _Stupid_. "Oh. If you want."

"Will he hate me?" Buck nearly whispers, and Eddie's not sure if it's an internal monologue that has leapt to the bounds of reality or if it was actually intended for his ears.

"Buck, why would my son, basically our son, the human embodiment of the sun, hate you for who you are," he says without much thought, pouring cereal. It was Saturday, an off day, and Buck was going to go to the park with Christopher to celebrate him being back in town. Yes, he admitted that they might have been sharing oversight of a child. If Buck notices, he doesn’t say anything, just listens.

Eddie remembers fondly the way he had lit up seeing Christopher and vice versa; it made him believe, for a moment, that home was anywhere with the two of them. Then, he snapped out of the illusion and mentally sucker punched himself in the face.

"Fair point," Buck huffed, leg uncontrollably bouncing, "But what if he doesn't understand it? Most people don’t. Most people think being trans means you worship Caitlyn Jenner and that you need a blood sacrifice from a virgin to medically transition."

Eddie almost missed the bowl.

"Buck, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Christopher has seen his mother leave him once, her leave again _forever_ , and the two of you almost dying in a goddamn tsunami. I think he'll understand if you try to explain."

The other studies him for a moment, magically breaking out into one of his blinding flashes of teeth. They could signal planes to land, Eddie thinks. It's almost as wonderful as Christopher's...okay the same, but in a slightly different way. In a friendship way. Is it friendly to enjoy your friend beaming up you at you like you're the best thing he's ever-

"Eddie," Buck breaks him from the trance, "I offered to make pancakes. You've been spilling the cereal everywhere. Wake up, dude."

So he does. Time for a reality check.

"Bucky!" Christopher comes into the kitchen, and their interactions are like two orbs of fire on the same rotational spin, transferring tails of luminescence from one to the other like it's a game of playing with Eddie's heart. "No pancakes?"

"See," Buck makes an exaggerated wave of the hand to show a victory, "...Uh. actually, buddy, I have to talk to you about something first."

"Then pancakes?"

Christopher is golden. Eddie snickers, dumping the contents back into the box. Maybe he doesn't want cereal. He doesn't really care. The discussion about to happen over promised breakfast is significantly more important.

"Sure," Buck gleams. He looks to Eddie for comfort, and the man gives him a nod in response. _Go for it, Evan_. "So, Chris. you know how when you're born the doctor tells you if you're a boy or a girl?"

"Yeah," Christopher bobs his head.

"When I was born, they told me I was a girl. But, um," he struggles to find the words, “I'm a boy, err, a man. I have been and I always will be. But I just told your dad that very recently, so I thought I'd tell you too."

He waits. Christopher blinks.

"Okay, Bucky," the kid understands, "I think you are the coolest guy who's ever lived, next to my dad. Can we have pancakes now?"

Buck could cry from happiness. Without thinking, Eddie walks over, placing a kiss on Christopher's head and...goes to ruffle Buck's hair. Which is no longer there. And also he has never done that before. His hand launches back like a rocket and Christopher makes a noise that's like he discovered a brand new toy to play with. He’ll be living it down for all time.

"Daddy and Bucky are my favorite boys, my favorite," Chris sing-songs, savoring the moment. Buck is blushing, again, no doubt from the praise. Eddie hopes that there's something more to the sheen, the rosy color. He grabs the pan for Buck to start cooking.

The trip to the park is fun, a happy constant in the shared unity of their lives. Buck and Eddie take Christopher around the playground where he intermingles with other children. He has a colorful social life, and Eddie lets him galavant around, because Buck is there, another protective entity in the line of defense. He can let go a bit, release. It’s just sandboxes and jungle gyms. Christopher will have fun to the best of his physical ability and his “parents” would be right there for support. Eddie’s lost contemplating on whether he’s a bad father for promising Chris ice cream after a breakfast of pancakes when Buck nudges him, the two of them standing idly by a bench rather than sitting down like normal people. _Always have to be ready for action_.

“We make a good team,” Buck chimes, voice ringing like bells. He falters briefly, continuing as he shifts towards serious subject matter, “Hey, did you mean it earlier when you said Christopher was _our_ son?” The man beside him is timid now, backing down from the outward expression of happiness he normally wears on a routine basis. It’s as if Eddie had said the wrong words hours ago, evoking a skittishness that made his skin crawl. Buck was hiding under the expanse of trees, the shade cloaking him from the sun. He seemed unsure.

“Oh, I did say that,” Eddie bit his lip, “Is that...is that okay? I figured no one would really object to that if they knew us. You’re present in his life more than anyone else other than Abuela and Carla, and we pay Carla,” he offered weakly.

“And _I’m_ the one who gave you her,” Buck recovered, catching up on the saga of him tripping over feelings, “So I win twice.”

“Ugh,” Eddie sighed, “You make co-parenting awfully difficult.”

That couldn’t have been further from the truth. What he didn’t want to reveal about Shannon, to himself or anyone, was that she never _felt_ like a parent. She was simply there, a phantom lurking the halls, rocking Christopher to sleep and then vanishing into the night. The woman there for his first steps wasn’t there when he needed her to be. Eddie left, too, but for different reasons. Justifiable reasons.

Then, even when Shannon came back, Eddie’s heart wasn’t there. They should be married again because of Christopher, not for either of them. Granted, it was traumatic seeing her lie lifeless on the gurney, but she couldn’t hurt Chris anymore. She left him one last time.

Now Buck? He never left. He fought, through tsunamis and intense schedules, barbecues and parties, all to please the kid. _His_ kid. Eddie couldn’t ask for a better partner in crime, whether on the field or to raise his son.

Except, they weren’t together.

Oh my god.

They thought that Buck was going to reveal his sexuality _and_ also that he was dating Eddie. That’s what the stares meant, the overwhelming frustration from everyone witnessing their awkward dance. The entire fire family swore the two of them were...dating. Actively.

He couldn’t blame them. Since when do men with no romantic feelings for each other raise a child together? Oh, Bobby and Michael. Nevermind. His dawning realization was cut off.

“Eddie,” Buck pointed towards Christopher, who was making friends with a little girl by the swings, “You don’t think he’s going to try and get up there without help, right?”

It was then that Eddie Diaz realized he was madly, stupidly in love with his best friend. Seeing him care so much, his whole being hyper aware of the situation by Christopher in case intervention was needed, accomplished what his heart had been forcing through its chambers for years. He forgot about blood circulation, the senses fading from tightly clenched hands.

Buck looked at him like he had several heads.

“Uh,” Eddie stammered, “Buck, I’m sure he’s fine. He knows his limits. Besides, look, he’s giving you a thumbs up,” he directed to a Christopher who was just thoroughly pleased with his newfound friend going up and down the limits of gravity. Swooshing through the summer air, neglecting any worldly responsibilities. _Oh, to be a kid again_.

“When I was his age,” Buck reflected, shrugging off the parental panic from moments ago, “I hated going outside. My mom always put me in these ugly fucking dresses that I hated. My sister would sneak me out these athletic shorts and sporty tops that my mom bought for Maddie when she tricked her into thinking that the recreational softball phase was going to last more than a summer.”

Eddie had almost forgotten what Buck confided in him in his personal revelation, but had a strong urge to reach for the hands beside his, caressing them to reassure and validate. He wanted Buck to feel safe, especially in his own skin.

“She was always there for you, right?” Eddie bumped his shoulder instead, “Your sister, I mean. I can’t see her being anything but supportive.”

“When she was there, yeah,” Buck shoved hands down his pockets, like he did when he was stressed, “After she moved out-after she married Doug, everything got worse.”

He had always known that Buck’s family life was...hard, to say the least. There’s a reason he gazed up at Bobby with the big doe eyes of someone who had never known fatherly love. The man practically sought acceptance from every human that crossed his path, a fact that grew troubling when considering his naivety with relationships. Eddie’s dad was rude sometimes, sure, but never abusive. Although the man had threatened to take away his son, he considered the dynamic turbulent in most ways, positive in others. A glass half full kind of deal.

“Did you tell them?” Eddie turned, crossing arms.

“After they found my binders, I had to,” Buck shuffled his feet, “Shit hit the fan. Beatings and emotional manipulation went,” he mimicked an upwards hand movement, “Until I left.”

“Buck,” his throat only lets out a rough whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” the other kicked sand over, “Just don’t want any other kid going through what I went through. Being transgender is hard enough. Last thing you need are parents who know nothing but belts and beer bottles,” he coughed. Eddie felt longing in his chest.

“Daddy! Bucky!’ a familiar voice bounded over from afar. Christopher was on his way back, crutches in tow, “I made new friends. Can we get ice cream now?”

“Certainly,” Eddie reached for it anyways, grabbing Buck’s recently freed hand that had shaken its former imprisonment from inside jean pockets, “Ready, Buck? I’ll pay.”

Buck had stopped, dumbfounded. He squeezed, anyways.

“You can still eat ice cream with one hand,” Christopher gave his two cents, “Let’s go!”

They weren’t really talking about it.

Instead, Eddie put Chris to bed, albeit with a goodnight kiss from Buck, too. Language between them had evolved to the point that at the onset of a head turn, the other would grab beers, one for each person. Unspoken agreements seemed to be their bread and butter before this change, one development that had Buck prioritizing himself moreso than in the past. It might’ve happened after Abby, a necessary need for closure. Buck decided to become more transparent, until everyone could see right through him, but the man had always been that way in most regards. It was Eddie who was closed off, cold. Buck wore his heart on his sleeve, whether on shift or in the kitchen putting away the dishes long after the party dwindled. Sometimes, when times were tough, people would tug on the clothes, begging for a piece of him, until Buck chipped it all away for the world to see. Exposed. He’d been fighting a pervasive vulnerability since a young age, weaknesses that only further endeared himself to others. Eddie saw them as “flaws” that were anything but; they’d have to agree to disagree.

He found himself wondering about Buck’s journey, him finding his fundamental sense of self. The other man, a soldier, father and once a husband (who was never completely enthralled by the term), sought identities through the people around him. Buck might have said the job defined him, but that wasn’t true. For Eddie, though, if everyone around him vanished, he would still be the person who didn’t save enough people in times of war or the dad that went overseas just to complicate his marriage. How could someone so adamant about their own identity ever find comfort in Eddie? He had Chris, and that’s what mattered. Except Buck mattered, too. He wanted to listen to all the stories, over ice cream and drinks, shoulder bumps and handshakes. Best friend didn’t seem like a fitting title anymore. Or, it being the only title.

“You’re _not_ in the right headspace,” Buck comments, telepathically noting the disturbance, “Dude, what’s wrong? I thought we had a good day. Chris had fun, we had fun.”

“No, we did,” Eddie is extremely uncomfortable. More so than in the firehouse, more so than when facing down Shannon across an expensive dinner, more so than in the ring fighting behind the scenes. He’s afraid. Chris would never recover if Buck walked away, but the mantra repeats in his head, _Buck won’t leave_. _Does that give me the right to put him through this, then? If he doesn’t feel the same? If the glances between us are strictly platonic?_

“Are you more uncomfortable than you let on?” Buck asks the tough question, bated breath and charged energy. Eddie thinks he might explode. _How could he ever think he’s the issue? That he’s the problem?_

_How do I tell him that the reason I won’t ever say a damn thing is because he is the one person who completes the family, the person who makes me comfortable, who’s always there?_

“Buck,” Eddie is trying to find the words, “Nothing about your situation makes me uncomfortable. I am proud of you, regardless of if it’s the teenage Buck I never met or the man you are now. You’re there for Christopher, you come to school events especially after that fluke with the teacher, you...” he can feel the tears brimming, “You’re there. And you’re so special. Anyone would fall for you, man or woman, for that energy. The one that makes Chris get up in the morning, the one that tells a member of the team good job in high spirits, the one that saves lives. You are everything to me and Chris when I feel like I am nothing. You really are.”

It might be the longest single stream of consciousness that has ever ejected from Eddie’s mouth in his many years alive. Buck is digesting the pieces, bit by bit, waiting for a punchline that never comes. Eddie wonders how many beers he could physically have before the night is a blur and the vomit the next morning will be gracious rather than a hassle.

“You know, when I was coming to terms with who I was,” Buck only looks at the kitchen island before him, “I never thought anyone would make me feel the way I was supposed to feel. While the drugs and the surgeries made me feel the way I wanted to feel, the way I was meant to be, I never thought that love would come with it. Ever,” he’s tearing up too, Eddie is reaching for a tissue to offer, but Buck stops his hand.

“I-I want you to feel loved, Evan. Accepted,” he fumbles the words. _Failure_.

“Then love me,” Buck has fire in his eyes and an icy gold grip on Eddie.

Shedding the panicked worry, the anxiety melts into a palatable flame, blue and red.

Eddie kisses Buck and remembers that if the sun can love the moon, maybe they can be together. Maybe Buck can burn bright, a blaze leapt to the skies, while Eddie stays constant and full of craters, wounds and kissible lesions. If Buck can hurt, Eddie can patch him up. If Eddie can hold Christopher on his back, Buck will follow behind to make sure the child growing bigger by the day doesn’t fall out of his grasp, a safety net with smiles to boot.

Buck is a man and Eddie loves him. He could be made of starlight and still find running fingers down his back, not caring what body parts belong where or norms can interfere. Love goes beyond the conformities of culture. They can rise with the sun and dip down with the moon, forming a bond beyond friendship. People could see them, really see them, only to know that it was a natural progression the universe had already predicted before.

“This is a long time in the making,” Buck laughs around the next kiss, “Now you’ll have to come out to everyone too.”

“I’ll be whatever it is that gets to be with you,” Eddie says, in a low tone. It’s true. He’s never been one for labels, or spent hours wondering if he fits the descriptors, but for Buck, he would be anything. He would pretend to be one third of the man Buck is if it lets them be.

“Does this mean I can stay the night?” Buck prods him, “Going home would suck now.”

“Stop whining and we can make it happen,” Eddie shakes his head, “I love you.”

He doesn’t even need to hear the answer to know that it’s reciprocated.

Eddie decides he is far from fond of public displays of affection.

Buck is a sucker for it, so after hours of begging and pleading, they enter the firehouse holding hands. Chim breaks the coffee cup on the floor (he says in shock but it’s for dramatic emphasis), Hen pretends to play a trumpet solo, and Bobby chuckles on the banister.

So Eddie adjusts, since he’ll never forget that real families know what love is, even if it takes some time to be found.

**Author's Note:**

> "Been talking about it until I killed my voice,  
> But it didn't change a single thing,  
> It's that simple truth,  
> That always means the most to you,  
> And you know it,  
> So just say it."
> 
> Leave a comment! (if you're transphobic gtfo)


End file.
